


Incinerate

by holysansa



Series: Vers of Hala [2]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Missing Scene, Power Imbalance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22046212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holysansa/pseuds/holysansa
Summary: Yon-Rogg’s close relationship with Vers forces him to reflect on the origins of her name.This is a missing scene from my fic Ultraviolence, but can be read as a stand-alone.
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Yon-Rogg, Yonvers - Relationship
Series: Vers of Hala [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586917
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Incinerate

_Vers._

Yon-Rogg had given her the name shortly before he had given her his blood. A brief look into the culture of C-53 revealed that the inhabitants were particularly fond of carrying identification, be it on clothing, cards, or metal tags. He saw it as annoyingly individualistic and childishly prideful. He hadn’t even originally planned on letting her keep that part of her former identity, but the decision had not been entirely his to make.

“Giving her a name that resonates with some part of her may make her more compliant,” the Supreme Intelligence had said the first time Yon-Rogg communed with it after that trip to C-53.

“But it’s a portion of the name we found displayed on her uniform,” Yon-Rogg said. “There’s no chance that the name Vers will be similar enough to compromise the integrity of the induced memory loss?”

“It is not your place to question the integrity of the memory loss, Commander,” the Supreme Intelligence said.

“Of course, Intelligence. Forgive me.”

And so the matter of what Vers should be called was never questioned again. It wasn’t until much later, when Vers had worn herself comfortably into Yon-Rogg’s life, that the origin of her name would begin to resurface in his mind.

Eventually Yon-Rogg’s sparring sessions with Vers left them both craving a different kind of release, and one night she had come to his room, sealing them together even more irrevocably than before. After ending up in his bed once, Vers began to seek him for physical intimacy almost regularly, and he let her. He knew he shouldn’t have, he knew that it was a breach of protocol, that he would never have done this with any other person under his command.

But she was not just any other person under his command. He couldn’t resist the futile storm of energy brewing underneath her smooth, touchable skin. He couldn’t resist holding her underneath him or seeing her slightly aglow on top of him, all the while knowing that she had more than enough power inside of her to obliterate him, but also knowing that he could control her.

“Say my name,” he commanded one night. She was pressed underneath him, turned over. He spread her arms out on either side of her and she gripped his sheets as he gripped her wrists. He was inside of her, filling her with moans and sighs that quaked across her eager and compliant body. He repeated his command, “Say my name, Vers.”

“Yon,” she moaned the first half of his name.

“Finish it,” he said, his lips on her shoulder blade. He ran his tongue up her neck and she gasped as he bit her earlobe, harder than he had intended.

“Yon-Rogg,” she said. Then she smirked at him over her shoulder, saying, “Do you want me to call you Commander, too, or would that just send you over the edge? I won’t say it if that’s the case. Not yet.”

He ran his fingers up the nape of her neck, lacing his fingers into her hair, then gripped and pulled her hair back. She gasped and he said, “You’re talking too much.”

“You’re the one that asked me to say your name.”

“And that was all I asked for.”

“You’re bossy.”

“Vers…” He pulled her hips forcefully upwards, so she was on her knees and forearms in a bowing position, as he stood up at the side of the bed. He ran his hand down her side, underneath across her abdomen, down between her legs, and he found her clit with two fingers as he continued to thrust into her. She let out a satisfying whimper that caused an involuntary shiver across his own limbs, and he said, “I _am_ your boss, Vers.”

She whimpered again, louder, and then he felt her feet moving up onto his knees. He barely had time to register what she was trying to do when she used the full force of her legs to push him, sending him stumbling backwards. She rolled onto her back, resting on her elbows, chest heaving up and down, lips parted. The look in her eyes taunted and defied him. Wordlessly, she stood.

Her gaze was fixed on him as she sauntered forward. Yon-Rogg tried not to wince as she pressed her glowing pointer finger onto the center of his chest, shocking him with an electric spark. With just her one finger, she pushed him, and he found himself unnervingly obedient, willing to let the slightest touch from her manipulate him. If it hadn’t been for the look she was giving him—that challenging, tempting look that made his body ache and beg to find out what she wanted to do to him—he didn’t think his obedience would have come so easily. As it were, he let her push him.

“You’re not always the one in charge,” she said.

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm.” She let her finger travel down his chest and trace over the muscles in his abdomen. Then, keeping eye contact, she took his cock in her hand and smirked when he fought back a sigh. With movements that were uncharacteristically delicate and tantalizingly slow, she worked her hand on him.

“You like when I’m in charge, don’t you?” she said, leaning towards him. He found himself drawn to her parted lips, seeking them with his own, but she pulled back. Even as she denied his lips, he found himself moaning from the touch of her hand still on him.

“Are you getting close yet?” she asked.

“Vers,” he sighed.

“Are you getting close?” she repeated.

“If you keep...if you keep this up.”

“Well then.” And she took her hand from him, pulled him in to kiss her, and, lips locked, she turned his body, guiding him towards the bed. Then she ran her hands up from his hips to his chest, and shoved him back onto the bed.

“You’re not finishing until I do,” she said, climbing on top of him, straddling him. “And you’re also going to tell me how much you like having me in charge.”

The way her body glistened as she tossed her hair back and situated herself on top of him sharpened his attraction to her in such a way that he allowed himself to forget his inherent authority over her. He knew he would admit anything she wanted him to right now—he wanted to maintain his self control, but he wanted her more.

Her thighs tensed against him as she let him enter her in a dizzying, intoxicating rush. He found himself closing his eyes, losing himself to the feeling of her fingertips leaving electrifying trails on his abdomen, to the way her hips felt pushed against his. He heard her moan and he opened his eyes to look at her.

“Say my name,” she said.

He complied, “Vers.”

“Not that name.”

It was surprising how instantaneously her words lashed a streak of panic into him. His hands were on her wrists before he even fully comprehended he had panicked. For a split second he saw her at the lake on C-53, lying in the dirt, her body sparking and nearly lifeless. He saw the name on her uniform. If she had remembered that name, then she could have remembered everything, and this moment of him caught underneath her, bendable to her will, would have made him an easy target for her revenge.

She glanced at his hands on her wrists and smirked.

“Are you already tired of not being in charge?” she said, pulling her arm up, bringing his arm with it, so his wrist was now at her mouth. She bit his wrist, her eyes twinkling, and he felt his momentary panic subside.

“I don’t know what name you want me to use,” he said, releasing his grip on her wrists.

“I want you,” she said, leaning over him, pressing her breasts against his chest and putting her mouth to his ear, “to call me Commander.”

“Vers,” he said, running his hands up her thighs, up to her waist, digging his fingers into her, “don’t be ridiculous.”

“Just say it once,” she said, nibbling at his earlobe.

Every inch of him knew he should put an end to this insubordination from her, but the way she ground her hips into his and moved her tongue along his neck blurred his reasoning. He heard himself saying, “Make me.”

He felt her warm laugh on his neck and she pushed herself up. She took his hand, moved it between her legs.

“Rub my clit,” she said, and he did. He watched her close her eyes and throw her head back, moaning loudly. The sight and the sound of her alone was enough to leave him ecstatic, making him moan with her. She looked down at him and pressed her palms against his chest.

“Say it,” she said.

“Not yet.”

“No?” she removed her hands, began to slow down the rhythm of her hips moving against his. “You want this to stop?”

“No,” his response was quick, “no, don’t stop.”

“Alright,” she said, slowly finding a rhythm again. “Say it.”

“Vers…”

“I’ll stop,” her voice was almost breathless and her pitch was climbing higher as she spoke, indicating she was getting close, but he believed her when she said she would stop despite that. “Call me commander or I’ll stop.”

“You—you’re in command, Vers,” he said, the words crawling hesitantly from his chest. 

“Am I?” she smirked and started to slow down again. “Because you’re still disobeying. Call me your commander.”

“Commander,” he finally said.

“Again.”

“Commander.”

It didn’t take long after that for them to both reach a breathless climax. Her trembling limbs pressed against his never ceased to exhilarate and complete him in a way that no one else ever had. He would never have relinquished his title to anyone else, even in such a heated moment. 

“We’re not doing that again,” he said after they had cooled off.

“Doing what exactly?” There was a playful glimmer in her eyes that he had to look away from.

“I’m not calling you Commander ever again.”

“Well, you say that now…”

“And I mean it.”

“Fine. We’ll go back to our old names.”

He couldn’t help but remember her old name again. He thought about it well after they had parted that night. He thought about the brief panic that had coursed through him when he thought she had remembered. Perhaps his relief at her sustained amnesia was why he had so easily let her get off on using his title. But the memory of her true name was weighing on his mind far more heavily than his momentary lapse of control.

He vividly remembered watching the uniform being stripped off of her unconscious body. He remembered Minn-Erva handing the uniform to him and he ran his fingers over the archaic fabric, studying the patches sewn on, trying to understand exactly what they had just taken from C-53. Besides the absorbed power of the core, she was nothing impressive. C-53’s defense systems were such that any of the military achievements they tried to decorate Vers with were, frankly, meaningless.

The only thing that may have meant anything was the patch with the name on it: Carol Danvers. He immediately recognized the four letters he had found on the scrap of a metal tag lying next to her in the dirt: Vers. He was almost certain if he had combed through the rest of the debris from the accident, he would have found the other half of the metal tag reading: Carol Dan.

But if the other half of the name tag even existed anymore, they would never see it—it was as good as gone. All that mattered now was that she had become Vers. Vers was who the Kree needed, who Yon-Rogg was molding into the perfect weapon for Kree.

And while he may not have known much about Carol Danvers, he knew everything about Vers. In a way, Vers belonged to him—she had his blood, she came to him for comfort in the night, and, above all, he alone was responsible for who she became. They had become inexorably linked. And so, for that reason, Vers mattered.

Carol Danvers did not matter.

Whoever Carol Danves had been on C-53 stopped mattering the moment her uniform had been stripped from her and, after a brief examination, thrown into the incinerator. Yon-Rogg remembered how easily the material had lit and disintegrated. That uniform and the name that was sewn onto it were now nothing more than smoke particles drifting somewhere in the endless emptiness of space.

Carol Danvers had been incinerated, but Vers, _his Vers_ , would change everything for Kree.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> This fic was inspired by the late realization that Carol's full name is actually on her uniform during the lake scene.
> 
> If you’re interested, this fic can be reblogged on tumblr [here](https://brielarsonist.tumblr.com/post/189981863071/incinerate-versyon-rogg-2k-words-rated-e).


End file.
